What About Pride?
by ProjectSynapse
Summary: After being mocked all through high school, Bulma decides to attend the twenty-year reunion to flaunt her current status. It's difficult though, to look good without a stunning date. Will she be able to convince her stubborn Saiyan to attend? B/V Complete
1. First Attempts

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This story should pretty much speak for itself. I plan on it being between four and six chapters long. Short and sweet. ;)

Hopefully you all enjoy this. It should be pretty fun.

**This takes place just after the Buu saga. **

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**What About Pride?**

_Chapter One - First Attempts_

"If you're so smart, why don't you just _invent_ a boyfriend?"

Tears began to sting the normally crystal-clear eyes of the one and only Bulma Briefs. It was unending, unrelenting, and completely uncalled-for, but nevertheless, every day upon her arrival at school and throughout her day, the girls in her class found reasons to track her down for her daily dose of humiliation. It was obvious to everyone why they did it. She could show up the boys with her adventurous attitude and voracious appetite for new and more dangerous experiments, and when it came to the other side of the battle of the sexes, there was no contest when it came to being the prettiest, the smartest, and the most talented female around.

Not to mention that when she first arrived, she had brought with her a giant-sized attitude for such a pint-sized girl. Bulma had entered the 11th grade when she was just 13. Needless to say, 17-year-old boys weren't exactly interested in a date with a pip-squeak. So she had kept her nose in the books, even though each night she dreamt about going to the prom with the man of her dreams. This man didn't quite have a face in her dreams, though…yet. She was still working on that part.

But upon graduation night as she observed the title of valedictorian beneath her name on the program which was carefully framed on her parents' mantle, that she couldn't help but wonder if it was a somewhat hollow victory. Sure, she could get into any school she wanted and she would never have to worry about making a living… but didn't she already have that by birth? Unfortunately, the only thing that would make her happy seemed to be the affections of a boy. And it couldn't be just any boy. It would have to be her prince charming.

It was for this reason that the prospect of seven magical balls which could grant any wish (perhaps even including a…boyfriend!) sounded incredibly appealing to the teen.

**-*- Twenty years later -*-**

"Come _on_, Vegeta. It's just one night. How many nights have I spent up for hours working on your stupid training room? And you can't even spare me a couple of hours of just one night?" Bulma stood, hands on hips, in front of her not-so-prince-charming with a look of irritation plastered on her face that could most likely kill a plant or small animal, if they were ever caught in such a glare.

"How many times must I tell you, woman? I am not about to become one of your little dress-up dolls just because you feel you've earned the right to parade me, the Prince of all Saiyans, no less, around your paltry Earthling gathering! 'No' means 'no', and that's my final word on the matter!" The stocky Saiyan marched straight for his training room and ended the conversation with a loud, metal thud.

"Ooohhh!" Bulma threw her hands into the air. She had just about had it. If it weren't for the occasion, she wouldn't even bother any further with the matter. Most of the time when she attended galas or other such social events where most of the attendees would be bringing dates, she hadn't even bothered to bring it up to Vegeta. She could go by herself and shine like the diamond she was, without so much as a second thought. Every once in a while, when she absolutely needed a date for the special occasion, she would drag Goku along for the free food, much to the relief of his wife who would only be cooking for two ravenous half-aliens that night.

However, this time it was different. This time it was her high school reunion. The big one. Twenty years. If she didn't go, what did it say about her? Well, that didn't matter so much as compared to what _they_ would say about her. Her entire graduating class would continue thinking of her as the timid little Bulma with braces and tears welling up in her eyes from their vicious taunting. They wouldn't remember her as the Bulma Briefs in the newspaper, or even the one in the tabloids. Nope, until she was in that room with them again, brimming with confidence (and a gorgeous boyfriend to boot), they would always think of her as a scared, defeated little girl.

But was it possible for her to shine through this without a date? She had given it some consideration and the answer, sadly, was no. She couldn't just show up and expect anyone (namely her arch nemeses, Electra Vossler and Natasha Ruford - the two most popular girls back in high school who seemed to delight in her torture the most) to show her half as much respect as they would if she brought along a hunk for a date. Especially a hunk with as much class and debonair dignity about him as the prince had…which ruled out Goku for a stand-in, since she couldn't risk a single mistake on his part. Certainly she wouldn't want a repeat of the last ball she had attended with the oafish (but well-meaning) Saiyan. He had turned out to be a surprisingly good dancer, and had followed up his performance by emptying several people's plates around the table they shared with the vice president of the company sponsoring the event. Needless to say, they weren't invited to the spring gala.

In other words, there were no other options that she could see at the moment. Bulma would either convince the prince to go with her, or die trying. She didn't expect the latter option to come into play, though, as she knew her brains just about as well as she knew her body.

In keeping with her plan, later that night Bulma wrapped herself in her most stunning negligèe just as she expected Vegeta to come in from his training. The kids were in bed, the servants had all gone home, and the house was completely quiet save for the rushing of water in their shared master bathroom. He must have entered the room from the opposite side so as to avoid her while he took his shower. But there would be no avoiding what she had in store for him once he got out.

A few minutes later the prince emerged from the foggy room, wrapped only in a white towel that complimented his golden skin. As she gazed at him, pausing only to make sure her drool wasn't actually leaving her mouth, she suddenly realized just how ingenious this whole thing was, and how…beneficially it would turn out for the both of them.

Vegeta unheedingly stalked to the other side of the room, searching for a change of clothes. He pulled a tank top from his drawer, then continued to search vigorously through his belongings. After a good amount of time had passed, he suddenly whirled around with a scowl on his face. "Woman! Where did your worthless housekeepers put my-"

It was at that moment that the scowl faded into a slightly more surprised expression. He then cleared his throat, so as not to appear fazed. "What…what are you wearing?"

She smiled seductively. "Mmm…do you like it, my prince?" Inside, she grinned devilishly. She knew just how much to stroke his ego when she wanted something.

His towel drooped to one side. "I…er, yes, I like it very much." Realizing how very un-princely he must look at that moment, he suddenly arched his back and regained his posture. Then he continued in a more commanding tone. "So I see you've learned how to behave." He approached the bed with a glint in his eye.

She bristled at the comment, but retained her seductive pose. "Oh, yes. I know how to behave when I…want something."

"Oh?" the prince asked, beginning to nuzzle her collarbone and working his hands down toward the clasp of her delicate garment. "And by something you mean…me, hm?" His voice dropped to a husky whisper.

"Mmm, yes. That, and…" she pressed her lips up against his ear. "A date."

He stopped working at the clasp just as it popped open. "What do you mean, a date?" he asked in a more questioning, less sexy tone.

"You know…a date," she said casually. "We dress up, we go out, we meet people, maybe dance a little…"

"You don't mean just a date, do you?" He sat up accusingly. "You still insist on bringing me to that asinine gathering of schoolmates, don't you?"

She bit her lip. "Well…"

He stood up from the bed violently. "You are above nothing, aren't you, woman? Put some clothes on. Don't assume you can lure the Prince of all Saiyans into an agreement just by using your body." He pulled his head through the tank top, then narrowed his eyes at her. "You sicken me sometimes."

"Hey!" she snapped the back of the dress closed hastily. "That was uncalled-for."

"As were your actions tonight," he shot back. "I will be sleeping in the guest room. Goodnight, tramp."

"Goodnight, **ass**!" She spat back, offended, as he slammed the door on his way out. "Ugh!" she beat her pillow into submission. Although she blamed herself for making the assumption in the first place, this was going to be harder than she thought.

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	2. A Replacement Date

**Thank you all for your support! I'm really glad that people are seemingly liking this story.  
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**Now, on with the next chapter. :)**

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**What About Pride?**

_Chapter Two - A Replacement Date_

It had been a while since Bulma had found something to pester Vegeta about to the point of the two of them sleeping in separate bedrooms. She didn't know whether to be upset about the past night's events, or a little bit happy that they both still had the fiery passion about things that had kept their relationship entertaining for so long. Right now, though, she would admit that she was getting a bit tired of it all, and wished there was a way of putting out her mate's fire…just for one night.

Bulma was brought out of her thoughts by motion on the stairwell. Vegeta was making his way down to the kitchen for his usual small (Saiyan-small, not human-small, mind you) morning meal before training. The only way she had grown accustomed to noticing his whereabouts was, in fact, by his motion and not by his sound. If she was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of his approach, which most times he would allow her if he wasn't trying to give her a jolt, then she would know where he was. If not, she certainly wouldn't hear his stealthy advances until it was too late, and he was upon her. She would be lying to herself if she didn't admit it was one of his more attractive qualities.

But this morning he was going for anything _but_ attractive. He stalked down the stairs with his usual prior-to-nine-A.M. grimace and made his way straight to the refrigerator. She noticed, though, that he didn't seem to be harboring any more irritation about the previous night's incident. No, he seemed to be at his normal level of indifference. It wasn't a good mood, but it would have to do. Besides, she had also noticed that he had slept in the bedroom just across the hall from hers, and not in one that was across the compound. Perhaps he wasn't as peeved by the whole thing as he had seemed.

"Good morning, handsome," she tested.

There was a pause. "I'm still not going."

"You know, I wasn't even going to bring that up again," she pouted, folding her arms.

Taking a swig of orange juice, he slipped her a sardonic grin. "No, of course you weren't."

"You know, Vegeta-" she stopped herself, mid-rant. No, he wasn't going to win this time. Her voice would just get all shrill and he would stand there with his smug little smirk and wait for her to become unraveled. But not this time. "Fine," she continued once she had regained her bearings. "You know what? Just forget it all. Forget I even asked you about this stupid thing in the first place. I'm sorry it ever came up. I should have known better than to have ever asked you to do something so silly."

His smirk quickly faded following her words. This obviously wasn't the response for which he had been looking. She stood up from her chair, flipping her magazine shut and rolling it up to take with her. As she passed him, she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Have a good day of training, hun."

A moment passed before Vegeta had composed himself enough to grunt back in response. What had just happened?

Meanwhile, Bulma was making her way into the main lobby of the compound, ready to accomplish a new set of tasks for the day. It was Saturday, so she really didn't have anything that was _necessary_ to complete, but she had a few projects she had been tinkering with lately, and she had decided this would be a good day to take her mind off of things.

As she picked up her mail and began to flip through it coolly, wondering just what sort of plan she would concoct to finally get Vegeta to take her, she glanced up for a moment only to lay eyes upon an old…well, _friend_ might not be exactly the right word. Okay, fine, friend.

Hercule Satan grinned back at her. "Uh, hey there Bulma. How're you doin'?"

She placed the envelopes back on the counter and gave him a genuine smile along with a hug. "Well, hi there! I had been wondering when I would see you again! How have you been lately?"

"Oh, you know, same old, same old," he shuffled his feet a little as he spoke.

Just then, it occurred to her that he was holding a small, gift-wrapped box. "Um, if I may ask," she began as politely as possible. "What brings you over to visit?"

He gave her a look just short of shock, then hurriedly tried to gather up an answer. "Uh, well, you know…" He looked around behind her. "Is this the wrong day for the party?"

In an instant, weeks of time came rushing up to culminate in one shocking realization: Today was Trunks' birthday party, and she had entirely forgotten. It wasn't that she had forgotten her son's actual birthday. It was that Trunks was being taken on a real safari by his grandparents for his official one, so they were having the celebration a few weeks early. And a few weeks early was…today.

Her eyes snapped back from their previously widened positions and she slapped on a hostess' smile. "Oh, no, of course not." She reached out to take the box. "Here, let me take this from you. Why don't you just head right down to the greenhouse? We'll have the barbeque set up in just a little while."

Beaming at him as he strolled a bit confusedly down the hall, she turned to run back up to get party-ready just as he called after her. "Oh, by the way, Buu will be here in just a minute. He's back at the car getting out his present!"

She pivoted quickly and plastered the smile back on. "Oooh-kay!" she chirped off-handedly before dashing back up the stairs. What could she wear? Had she remembered to send invitations to everyone, at least? Oh, thank God she had staff to prepare her parties for her, or this day would have been a total disaster.

So what did she have left to do? It seemed that everyone else already knew about the party, so she wouldn't have to prepare her parents, or anyone else. She just had to give her clothes and makeup an upgrade and then she could start making sure that Trunks was all ready to go and that Vegeta was…

Vegeta. Did he even remember dates like these when she told him months in advance? She would just have to hope for the best. He usually didn't do too much socializing at these sort of things, but this one was at their home, and he hadn't seen everyone in a while…he would probably make an appearance at the very least. If he remembered.

She ascended the stairs to the master bedroom at record speed and within a few minutes she found herself sprinting back down them, hair pinned and dress donned. She probably should have been at the front door, ready to greet her guests as they arrived, but hopefully Trunks had taken care of that…wherever the boy was now…and she would just have to make for the garden since most of them would have assembled there by now. As she approached the massive greenhouse she caught the scent of charcoal smoke just outside and thanked her lucky stars she had had the forethought to put together a party staff weeks in advance.

Upon entering the garden area, she was immediately greeted by a warm hug from Chi Chi, who always knew on-sight when someone needed soothing for their frazzled nerves. "How's it going, hun?" She gave Bulma a warm-hearted smile.

She took a calming breath, finally coming to terms with the fact that the party most likely wouldn't crash and burn just because she didn't have her act together. "Oh, just fine," she finally answered. Suddenly, she realized how long it had been since she had seen her good friend and decided that another hug would be in order. "So how have things been going for you?"

Chi Chi tossed a look toward her husband, who was already devouring the hors d'oeuvres like a starving man. "Oh, same as always," she answered with a motherly roll of her eyes.

The party went on without a hitch from then on. Old friends caught up and stories from old times were brought up for a hundredth retelling. Vegeta even made an appearance, which delighted the pre-teen Trunks almost as much as it did Goku. There were presents, dancing, and of course, a ridiculous amount of food. A few of Trunks' school friends had even arrived, but of course he and Goten paid them no mind and snuck off on their own adventures as if they _didn't_ see each other every day.

Toward the end of the evening, Bulma relaxed and put her feet up as she pondered her next move with her prince. She had spent all day catering to her guests, and now as she looked on they seemed to be quite content, so she had a moment to herself to think. Vegeta had long since retired to his own affairs, ducking out of the party at a time which no one could pin point exactly. Oh well. Bulma thought he actually deserved quite a bit of credit for lasting as long as he had in a gathering of youngsters such as the day had been.

So what to do to convince him to make the sacrifice for her? She wasn't usually one to give up on something she wanted, but after the hissy fit he had thrown…maybe it was time to throw in the towel. She sipped on her drink as she thought, and her gaze drifted thoughtfully over the party. Just then, her eyes fell on what she perceived to be the answer. Perhaps she didn't need Vegeta. All she really needed was an impressive date. So what about Mr. Satan?

Granted, they had never been on the best of terms. But he was a friend of the family, after all. And he was certainly impressive. If she showed up to her reunion on the arm of the most well-known man on the face of the Earth…well, that would be the end of any mocking to her name. Sure, he wasn't the most debonair man of whom she could think, but it seemed to her that she hadn't much choice anymore, and he was definitely a better option than most.

Well, that settled it. She stood up to make her way over to the chatter box. "So then, I whooped the sad little poser until he just couldn't take it no more!" The group around him chuckled lightly at Hercule's story. What he didn't know was that most of them were laughing _at _him, rather than with him. Of course, as long as it was attention, even if he did find out he most likely wouldn't care.

"Ahem," Bulma cleared her throat politely, interrupting his next story to the relief of the small crowd. She pulled him aside. "Hi. Listen, I was wondering if you'd like to do me a favor."

Mr. Satan blushed slightly at her close proximity before coughing slightly and answering. "Well, sure, uh, Bulma. Yeah, anything for you. Whaddaya need? Is it an autograph? Who do I make it out to?" he asked helpfully.

She smiled. "No, it's not that. I was just wondering if there was any possibility if you could go as my, well, date to a special event. You'd be doing a friend a favor."

Suddenly Mr. Satan's mood wasn't so friendly. He may have been a little cocky, but he wasn't no danged fool. Taking Bulma anywhere that could even remotely be categorized as a date would be just like asking Vegeta to come and pound him into the next dimension. No thanks.

He smiled up at her, giving a nervous chuckle. "Well, uh, ya see…"

She waited expectantly.

He blew out a breath, looking around for an out. And right behind him, he spotted it. "Well, you know, _I'm_ not so good at the classy, date-type stuff," as he continued, he turned around to pull Yamcha from his current conversation and into theirs, surprising Bulma entirely. "But, uh, my pal Yamcha here is. And I would be remiss if I was to, uh, take you myself when I'm sure that he would be a much better date for you, Miss Bulma."

She looked back and forth between the sweaty man in front of her and the confused man he was holding.

"So whaddaya say, Yamcha? Will you take Bulma on her date?" Mr. Satan looked on, pleading with him silently as he did so.

"Um, did I miss something here?" A very bewildered Yamcha asked.

Bulma looked around for Vegeta, who was no where to be found, and made up her mind. Oh to Hell with it. "Yamcha, I need a date for my high school reunion this upcoming Friday. Vegeta won't go because he's…busy. So what do you say?"

Between Bulma's expectant gaze, Mr. Satan's puppy dog stare, and now Puar's angry "don't-you-screw-this-one-up" glare added into the mix, poor Yamcha didn't stand much of a chance. "Well," he started carefully. "I suppose it's just helping out a friend. Sure, why not?"

Bulma squealed out her excitement as she hugged him. Finally, her worries were over. Yamcha was definitely a presentable date, and this way she would be going with an old friend, so there wouldn't be any awkwardness at all. Right?

Meanwhile, Vegeta stood in the kitchen munching on a sandwich left-over from one of the party trays. He was reading a particularly uninteresting article in the magazine laying next to Bulma's purse on the counter. Suddenly, as he went to wipe some of the unsightly crumbs from his face, he accidentally bumped the purse, which went spilling over the edge and onto the floor.

"Blast it," he mumbled to himself as he bent down to scoop up the contents and replace them before Bulma came up from the party. He set his sandwich down and bent to one knee as he scraped all the loose items together. There was so much useless junk. An empty lipstick container; A roll of mints with just one left; A small collection of bobby pins; A handful of tampons…whatever those blasted things were.

Yes, that's right. As wise as Vegeta had become about most strange Earth items, the mystery of the tampon still eluded him. The extent of his knowledge on the subject had come from, of all people, Goku. One day while they had been sparring, the subject had come up one way or another, and all that Vegeta remembered was Kakarot's arms flailing about wildly as his face contorted into a look he had never seen him wear before, and he was profusely instructed to never, _ever, _ask his wife about the matter.

After that day, the prince had never once brought it up again. If something had Kakarot that worked up, it couldn't possibly be anything good.

As he placed the last of the items back into the purse, Vegeta came across an invitation. Upon closer inspection, he found it to be the slip of paper which had caused all the trouble between himself and Bulma. It was an invitation to her high school reunion. Out of curiosity, he opened it up and found the inside to be covered in pictures of Bulma's graduating class covered in scrawling notations. Under one picture it read, _"Divorced. Two children."_ Another read, _"Remember to ask about Knee Surgery."_ Still another read, _"Got a new job." _

One addition, however, caught his attention over all the rest. Scribbled over one of the young girls' faces was a mustache and goatee, along with devil horns. This brought a small smile to his face. Sometimes the woman could be so childish. Then he found himself scanning back over the previous notations. She had kept tabs on so many people, just so that she could seem up-to-date and personable. It really must mean a lot to her what these people thought of her.

As he set the purse back up onto the counter, Vegeta snatched up his sandwich and took a bite. Perhaps he had been a bit harsh in his immediate rejection. The woman had made sacrifices for him in the past. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. After all, it was just one night, and it did seem to mean a lot to her.

Vegeta growled to himself. He must be getting soft. He was actually willing to take her on her stupid date.

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**Aaaannd...Reviews? ^_^**


	3. No Objections Here

**I'm all but positive that the next chapter will be the last. Definitely short and sweet, haha. **

**Hopefully you're all still enjoying this story. I know I'm certainly enjoying writing it. Most of what I've been reading and writing is on the lighter side, this included, (not that it's entirely humorous - a little drama adds to the fun, I think :P) which is a nice break from my other writing and every-day life in general. I hope to have this story finished by next week, so keep a look out for the final chapter sometime around then, if you're interested.  
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**Anyway, I won't blather on any longer. Here's the next chapter. ^_^**

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**What About Pride?**

_Chapter Three - No Objections Here_

Vegeta wiped his mouth of any remaining evidence of his bedtime snack as he stalked down the hallway. If he was going to do this he wanted to get it over with, and quick. Using thoughts of Bulma's happy face as his only incentive, he made his way back toward the sounds of the party to find his woman. Each time Vegeta began to talk himself out of the idea, he thought of the nights he would be spending sleeping in separate rooms _against_ his will, and the notion spurned him on at a quicker pace than before.

Upon reaching the extensive greenhouse area he surveyed the party from one of the small, terrace-like additions to the room and watched for a flash of turquoise. After a few minutes without any luck, he noticed his son's power signature moving toward him at an impressive rate. Of course, the boy must have been in the middle of some sort of horseplay with Son Goten, but this was of no consequence to his father, who immediately grabbed hold of Trunks' shirt as he flew by. His playmate carried on for a few seconds before realizing his absence, but by that time Trunks had already begun to fuss in his father's grasp, struggling against his grip for release. "Hey! Dad, come on…it's my birthday!"

Vegeta lowered him to the ground, but didn't release his shirt. Rolling his eyes, he replied. "Not yet, it isn't."

Trunks crossed his arms in front of himself, silently mimicking his father's prevalent pose. Vegeta ignored his attitude, making an exception for the special occasion and returned to his real reason for plucking him from play. "Where is your mother?"

Trunks screwed his face up in thought, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling as he recalled. "Last time I saw her, she was talking to Mr. Satan, I think."

"Satan?" Vegeta smirked at first, then furrowed his brows. "Why would she be talking to that moron?"

Trunks shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "I don't know. I didn't hear what they were saying. I just saw them." He shifted his weight. "Dad, can I go play with Goten now?"

The question reminded Vegeta of his grip on the neckline of his son's shirt. He let the fabric go, watching as Trunks took off again. His thoughts almost immediately returned to Bulma, but not before he turned back toward his young child. "Trunks," he called after him, stopping the boy mid-flight for the second time.

"Yeah, Dad?" he returned to his post in front of his father.

Vegeta dropped his gaze downward and did his best to stir up a smile. He rested one hand on Trunks' shoulder, and gave his hair a tousle. Then his face became more stern and princely again. "Son."

Trunks did his best to puff out his chest and draw his shoulders back for his father's inspection. He waited until his father's stare softened, and after a few seconds, he relaxed his posture once more and grinned up at him. He took off again without another word, as the sentiment had been passed without need.

Vegeta then began again to comb the area of the party, but this time for a fading, black afro. While he did so, he overheard the boys' conversation as they left.

"What was that, Trunks?" Goten blurted out immediately, his voice tinged with wonder.

"That's how my Dad says 'happy birthday'," Trunks answered nonchalantly.

Goten was silent for a moment. "I don't get it."

"You wouldn't. It's a Saiyan thing," the other boy addressed him matter-of-factly.

"Hey, I'm a Saiyan, too!" Goten protested.

Trunks laughed. "Barely. You wouldn't understand. My dad's a real live prince. Yours is just a third-class weakling."

Vegeta couldn't help but smirk at his son's perfect reiteration of his own words.

"It doesn't matter if my dad is a third…whatever," Goten replied, flustered. "Mine is stronger than yours!"

"Is not!"

"Is so!"

The conversation faded as they made their way outside, more slowly this time as they embraced each other in a half-hug of playful wrestling. Vegeta turned all his focus toward the party once more, and finally caught sight of the man for whom he had been searching. He didn't see Bulma there, but she must be somewhere close, and so he began to make his way toward Hercule as a starting base.

Vegeta couldn't think of a single reason for Mr. Satan to speak to her much past a friendly greeting. They had nothing in common. Perhaps the man was interested in something concerning her company's affairs . Either way, he was certain that Bulma wouldn't return the interest in talking to the man. After all, she had expressed her disgust for his behavior many a time, and even though the whole group seemed to have accepted the fact that he was a changed man (for the most part, anyway) who was more humble when off-stage than he ever had been before, Bulma still made it obvious that she didn't get any enjoyment from his presence.

After debating the issue with himself for a moment, Vegeta finally decided that the man must have had some reason to talk with her, most likely backing her into an awkward position before beginning their conversation. Perfect. Not only would he be finding Bulma to satisfy her most prominent request over the past few days, but he would also be stepping in to save her from unpleasant company. Yes, tonight would be a _very_ rewarding night in the bedroom of the Saiyan No Ouji.

If only he could find that foolish woman. It was just then that he came upon a very relieved-looking Hercule, only to find him standing alone, sipping on some punch. Onyx orbs searched the area surrounding, irritated now. Ah, there she was. At last, he had located her on the other side of the large room. She was giggling loudly, and chattering in a very excited tone to someone he couldn't quite see. The crowd blocked her mystery companion but from her bright eyes, animated gestures, and girlish giggling , Vegeta supposed it was Chi Chi.

He pushed past a few of the parents he didn't recognize, still making an effort to avoid one that he did, not being in the mood to be bothered by Kakarot. Continuing his trek, he finally reached the pair, only to discover that his mate was currently sharing her excited disposition with Yamcha.

The prince was not at all bothered by his discovery. After all, the two had been close friends for many years and now and again they spent time together at parties and such. And when it came to Yamcha on anything more than a friendship level, well, he wasn't much in the way of competition for the Prince of All Saiyans. He was, however, surprised when he watched Bulma throw her arms around his neck in a warm hug. After all, they weren't _that _close.

He watched as she finished their conversation by thanking him over and over again and slowly made her way back through the crowd, beaming all the way up to her other half, who was standing, arms folded, waiting patiently for her arrival. Nearly bumping into him, Bulma stopped an gave him a startled look. "Vegeta! I thought you'd be training or something by now."

"I needed to speak with you," he answered, his tone very warm. He was being surprisingly calm, and hadn't even snapped out a single sarcastic comment so far. It was strange to have him acting so affectionately, being that the past few days had been strained for the couple.

Bulma was bewildered, finding herself trying to figure out what had changed his mood. "Oh," was all she could offer in response.

Before she added anything else, he raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "What could that weakling possibly have done that deserved such thanks?" he asked, bringing the subject a step backward.

She slipped on a pleased smirk. "Well, Vegeta, you won't have to worry about taking me to that stupid ol' reunion anymore." She punctuated her answer with a wink.

Vegeta's face fell slightly, and the beginnings of a confused scowl began to creep into his features. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"I thought you'd be happy to hear that," she pouted, placing a hand on her hip. "I won't be bothering you about it anymore, since Yamcha agreed to take me."

The prince's mouth gaped open in shock for a split second, but he quickly concealed his initial emotion with anger. "You've decided to take that fool to your so-called important evening? Have you gone completely mad, woman?" His voice began to raise just slightly above the average level for the room. Bulma, taking notice of the concerned looks they were both getting from all sides, grasped for her indignant partner's arm, now desperately trying to move them both out of the spotlight.

Vegeta purposely eluded her grasp, but opting for a more private moment away from the idiotic stares of the party-goers, he stalked out of the room, Bulma in close pursuit. Her shouts became more audible as they left the noise of the party, as she alternated between scolding him for embarrassing her and for leaving their initial fight. When they had entered a more private room Vegeta turned and crossed his arms, awaiting the end of her barrage. It came somewhere around, "…and I think you owe me a little bit more respect than that!"

He rolled his eyes, only further infuriating the heiress. "Are you quite finished? Because I don't see much of a point to your babbling."

Her mouth hung open for a moment as she was caught between starting up another reprimand and taking a moment to think over why exactly he was trying to incite her irritation. She chose the latter, giving him time to speak. "You still haven't answered my question."

She contained her fuming gaze long enough to bring her eyes up to his in a questioning stare. "Oh, I'm sorry. What was that question? I must have missed it between the part where you totally ruined my party and made everyone uncomfortable by yelling at me for no reason, and the part where you walked away from me in the middle of our argument, making me look even worse!"

He scoffed. "For someone so concerned about what others think, you certainly don't give much care regarding your little dates for these events." Vegeta waited for her irritated physical response, which came in the form of a glare, and continued before she could speak. "And my question was regarding just that: Have you gone mad, are have you always been this stupid?"

Bulma couldn't believe her ears. Why was he acting this way? She hadn't expected him to care much at all about her special evening anymore, but it seemed that he had gone off the deep end at the news that she had found another date. "What is your problem, Vegeta?"

He snorted. "I have no problem. I'm just curious as to why you would take it upon yourself to ruin your own night. That pathetic weakling was no acceptable suitor to you in the past, and he will prove the same again."

This time it was her turn to snort. "Well, let's see…my first choice was a total selfish prick who told me to drop the subject, so, yeah, I went ahead with my second." When he didn't answer right away, she cocked her head at him. "Why are you so interested, anyway? Since when do you care who takes me to a dumb old 'human gathering'?" she asked, mocking his own words.

At the more probing question he turned his back to her instantly, making his way for the door and purposely avoiding her gaze. "I don't. If you want to end up miserable, it's no concern of mine." When he reached the doorway, he paused to toss an antagonizing look at her one last time. "But when you do, I suggest that you look elsewhere for comfort, since I will find it highly amusing."

Before she could respond, he blasted down the hallway, leaving a cluttered floor covered in over-turned catering carts in his wake. Blasted woman. Why couldn't she see that he was trying to be…caring? Or something idiotic like that. It would be her own damned fault when her night fell apart. The thought rang in the prince's mind as he angrily slammed the door to the spare bedroom for the second night in a row.

After he had calmed himself down a bit he paced the floor, struggling with just what had happened. Had he really just become angry over a stupid date? He hadn't even wanted to go, and by all rights, he should have been pleased to hear that she had found a replacement. Vegeta wasn't the jealous type, so it couldn't have been her escort that was the problem for him. Was it…was it really that important to him that she was happy because of _his_ presence? Could it be that he wanted to make an appearance at her reunion, just so that he could be the one causing her happiness rather than anyone else? For once, did he actually want to be the one making her smile instead of irritating her to the point of madness?

Slowing his pace for a second as he thought the possibility over, he scoffed at his own foolishness. No, of course it couldn't be any of those things. He had to be going insane.

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	4. A Lot of Catching Up To Do

**Well, the final chapter is finally here. ^_^**

**I would like to thank all my wonderful readers for all their support. I really felt like this fic was well-received, and all of your praise as well as constructive comments and criticisms were both helpful and very much appreciated. Thank you all so much for your help, guidance and encouragement. I hope you all thoroughly enjoy the ending to this story. **

**So, without any more rambling from me, here we go! :)

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**

**What About Pride?**

_Chapter Four - A Lot of Catching Up To Do_

The big day had finally come for the all-grown-up Miss Bulma Briefs. As she stood in front of the mirror modeling her thirtieth outfit of the morning she heard someone enter the room behind her and turned to face them. Before she could stop herself, Vegeta's name escaped her lips hopefully. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, she was mistaken. She tried to hide her disappointment as her mother entered the room. Bulma didn't have to try too hard, however, considering that Bunny was, as usual, oblivious to everything going on around her.

Bunny immediately took her daughter's hands and beamed in delight at the dress she was currently sporting. "Oooh!" she squealed. "This one's even better than the last one, honey!"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Mom, this _is_ the last one. I haven't changed yet since you were last in here."

Not missing a beat, her mother patted her hands gently. "It's all in the attitude, dear! You just pull it off so well this time. Something must have changed since I last saw you."

Bulma sighed. "No, mom. Nothing's changed. I just can't seem to pull myself together for this thing. I mean, it was nice of Yamcha to take me and all that, but now I'm having second thoughts. I just know I wouldn't have all these butterflies in my stomach if Vegeta was taking me," She sat down on her bed, pulling the bangles from her wrists dejectedly. "But it's no use. He's a stubborn, royal pain and he's never going to change."

"Not even for a girl as pretty as you?" Bunny asked hopefully as she sat down on the bed to stroke her daughter's hair.

Bulma smiled, despite herself. "Not even for me, Mom."

Bunny stood up to leave the room. "Well, I don't believe it for a minute. I see the way he looks at you. I know the way that man acts sometimes, but Bulma, darling, you're his everything."

Bulma interjected a disbelieving "Pffft."

Her mother just smiled, and started toward the door. Before she walked out, though, she turned to her daughter one last time. "You may not believe me, but a mother's intuition is never wrong, you know." She added a wink, and that was the end of it as she left the room. Bulma just sighed. Her mother could be completely oblivious sometimes, but this time really took the cake.

Later that night, Bulma made her way down the stairs in a stunning black dress. She had teased and tousled for hours, and when she reached the bottom of the stairs the reactions she got proved that it had all been well worth it. Vegeta was sitting at the dinner table along with Trunks, eating the food Bunny had prepared for them before she and Dr. Briefs had gone off to some big company dinner. As Bulma approached, Trunks looked up from his meal in surprise. "Wow, mom! Where are you going tonight?"

Bulma smiled as she caught a tinge of the same reaction from Vegeta, who quickly replaced it with a heightened fervor for whatever he was eating at the moment. She looked back at their son who was gazing at her expectantly. "Trunks, don't you remember? I told you I have a very important meeting with some old…friends tonight. That's why you're staying at Aunt Chi Chi's tonight."

At the news, Trunks bolted out of his chair. "Alright! Sleep over!" he dashed up the stairs, forgetting the rest of his meal in his haste to pack cooler pajamas than Goten's.

Bulma shook her head, amazed at her child's ability to tune her out until the very last moment. She pulled out a chair and sat down next to Vegeta, who was still doing his best to ignore her, and began to strap herself into her favorite pair of stilettos. The silence grew between them, and all that could be heard was his munching. Finally, she turned to him after securing one of her feet. "I really wish you wouldn't act like I'm doing something wrong. I don't know what you want from me."

He continued to stare forward, so she continued. "I kept asking you to go, and I thought you were going to kill me after a week of that. So when I got another date, I thought you would be happy. But you're acting like you're mad at me, so I don't know what you want me to do."

Again, there was no verbal answer. But he did slow his chewing in order to hear her speak as she grew quieter. She reached out to delicately place a hand on his shoulder. "Vegeta, I love you," she started. Then she pulled her hand away, reaching for her second shoe and returning to her work. "But you can be a total jerk sometimes."

With that last sentiment, she strode off toward the stairs to the front entrance to wait for her date. Surprisingly enough, by the time she reached the lobby she was greeted by the sight of Yamcha in a tux, holding a bouquet of tiger lilies. She slowed her pace, taking it all in, and finally was able to form words. "You're…uh, you're early."

He smiled warmly and took her hand to kiss it. "Bulma, I wanted everything to be perfect for you tonight. I know how important all this is to you, so I want it all to go right."

Swooning for a moment, she was glad when he offered her the flowers, since it gave her something else to focus on. "You remembered," she said softly.

Nodding, he began to lead her toward his car. "Uh huh. They're still your favorite, right?"

She swallowed hard, and nodded back. "Yes, they are. Yamcha, why are you doing all this?"

He took a breath before answering. "Listen, babe. I know that back when we were dating, I didn't treat you so great. I may have even taken you for granted sometimes." She gave him a look, and he rephrased. "Okay, _most_ of the time. And, well, I just wanted to make it up to you now."

"Oh," she replied, still thinking it over. "Well, thank you."

"No problem, babe," he grinned as he opened her car door for her. "By the way, how do I look?"

She gave him a once over and didn't answer right away. He didn't take this as a good sign, and shifted nervously. Finally, she spoke up. "Well…not that you don't look great, but it's not a terribly formal event."

He looked down at himself, noticing for the first time that he might be a tad bit over-dressed for a high school reunion. "So…how formal is it, exactly?"

"Well," she started, coming toward him to pull off his jacket and throw it in the back seat. "Not _this_ formal." Then she made a grab for his tie and untied it, tossing it to join his jacket. His vest followed, and finally she popped open his top two buttons to reveal his undershirt. "I'd say about _this_ formal."

He glanced at himself in his side-view mirror. "Nice work! Yeah, this is more comfortable anyway." Smiling at her, he gestured toward the inside of the car, still holding her door open. "Well, what do you say?"

Giving a slight chuckle at his gentlemanly acts, she sat down in the passenger's seat. "I say, take me to the ball, Prince Charming!"

When they arrived at the reunion, Bulma did her best to smooth down any wrinkles her dress had acquired on the way there and entered the building, shoulders back and head held high. Her date came up behind her, wrapping one arm around her back in support that, although she would never admit it, she really needed at that moment.

The two followed the music of past years to the outside of the grand ball room. Just outside the entrance was a small table, covered in name tags. Bulma snatched up the little off-white slip with her name on it and frowned as she pinned it to her dress, noticing the way it cheesed up her whole outfit. She wasn't upset by it for long, though, as she reached into her purse and pulled out a head of one of the lilies from her bouquet. She had pulled one off in the car (never know when you might need a quick accessory!) and taken it in, just in case. Pinning it to her nametag to add a splash of class and color, she smiled as she took a quick glance in her compact mirror. Yep, this night was going swimmingly.

Yamcha offered her his hand and the pair entered the ball room as if they had stepped straight off the cover of a fashion magazine. The entire room took notice of the heiress as she glided over to the refreshments table to flaunt her date. There wasn't a large crowd - only three men and four women. But all three of the men instantly stopped what they were doing as they took notice of the blue-haired bombshell. She gracefully moved to the rhythm of the music, and glanced toward the punch bowl causing four men to make a move for the crystal glasses, resulting in only one winning out as Yamcha dipped into the bowl to retrieve it for his date.

She smiled as she received an equal amount of puppy-dog eyes from the men and glares from the women. Bulma absolutely relished the chaos she had created, but didn't linger too long - after all, she had _lots _of places to mingle tonight. But she had yet to locate the two people she really needed to mingle with - Electra Vossler and Natasha Ruford. They were, so far, no where to be found. Maybe they weren't coming. No, no, neither of them would pass up a chance to judge and ridicule others for being less successful than them. Well, Bulma would find them eventually. Right now, she had a whole room full of people to impress besides those two.

From the refreshments table, Bulma decided to lead Yamcha out onto the dance floor. Remembering that he had actually been a good dancer on their dates (those of which he had decided to show up for, anyway), she gently laid her hand on his forearm. "Yamcha, sweetie, can we dance?"

He gave her a grin. "Thought you'd never ask, babe."

With that, he led her onto the open space between the rest of the couples that were currently attempting to show off their skills. Bulma placed her hands on her date's shoulder and in his hand, and they began to sway to the music, twirling around to the slow-moving melody. After a moment had passed, she glanced around the room to be sure that everyone was watching them. Of course, most of the men were, as well as a very small number of women. But she could tell that the larger portion of the females in the room were watching them as well - just trying to make it as discreet as possible, waiting for her to slip up.

When she was satisfied with the number of eyes on the both of them, Bulma leaned into Yamcha's chest happily, putting her lips next to his ear to talk. "This is going perfectly, Yamcha! Thank you so much for being my date."

He smiled and gently spun her around, then brought her back to face him. "Anytime, babe. You deserve this kind of stuff."

It was then that she realized she was entering dangerous territory. It had been years since Yamcha and herself had dated. And most of the time that they were, she had been fumingly angry or miserable. It wasn't entirely his fault - she had a temper that not many guys knew how to deal with properly. But still…it almost seemed like ending things between them had been a mistake. After all, they were really just kids back then. Now they were both adults, living separate lives and being more in-tune with their own identities. Sure, back then she had been a screaming banshee and he had had a roving eye, but now…well, to be honest, she couldn't figure out what made Yamcha so off-limits to her.

Granted, Vegeta was better than him in almost every way…at least, she had thought so, up until tonight. But now…he didn't even seem interested in her in a romantic way anymore. Maybe things had fizzled between them. Or maybe all he had wanted from her was a physical relationship, and now that he was bored with her, he wanted them both to move on. Whatever was going on between Bulma and Vegeta, she was sure of one thing: Yamcha was currently offering more than Vegeta could ever live up to, but for some reason she couldn't quite place…she still wished that it was Vegeta doing the offering.

She lifted her eyes up to her date's, wondering if she should really drag him into all this, and for a split second pondering whether she had made a mistake in letting him go, when she suddenly felt a distinct rubbing sensation against her upper thigh. Shocked, she looked down at where his hands were. One was gently cradling her hand, and the other was wrapped chastely around her waist. Then, how…?

Just then, she felt it again. "Bzzzzzzzt." Oh.

"Sorry, babe," Yamcha whispered in her ear. "That's my phone. I think I should get it."

Starting to panic as she looked around, she noticed that most of the eyes that were on them at the beginning of their dance were now roving the room, looking for something more exciting or embarrassing. She nodded at Yamcha, letting him know that it was alright to take it, and he pulled his phone from his pocket, pressing it into his ear and talking as discreetly as he possibly could. "What's up?"

There was a moment of silence as there was apparently a very long answer to his question on the other end of the line. His face grew worried, then pleading, then as the person finished, he looked at Bulma sadly. "Yeah, okay. I'll be right there. Just don't go anywhere, okay?"

Bulma watched him nervously. What did he mean "be right there?" Yamcha flipped his phone shut and told her everything she needed to know in a look. She had seen that look hundreds of times back when they were dating. "Listen, Bulma, I know how important all this is to you, but…look, I'm really sorry…I don't know how to say this…I have to go."

She narrowed her eyes, pulling him toward her to dance so that their conversation could be kept off-display. "What do you mean, you have to go?"

"My girlfriend's car broke down on the highway. She's sitting out there in the dark, and something could happen to her. I'm really sorry, Bulma, but I have to go get her."

"Yamcha, I'm not going to leave."

He looked at her in disbelief, then realized whom he was addressing and rethought his reaction. "Okay, well, that's fine. But I can't stay here with you. I'm sorry, babe. I really am. Good luck with everything."

"Yamcha! Come on, doesn't she have freaking Triple "A" or something?" she hissed at him.

"I'm sorry, babe," was his only response, and he left her there, staring at him as he walked out the door on one of the most important nights of her life. She felt some of the stares that had left her begin to return as she tried her very best to remain calm and collected while standing alone on the dance floor.

It was just then that the worst possible thing happened. Bulma happened to glance at the entrance just at the moment which Natasha and Electra had chosen to show up. No, no, no! This could not be happening. This night was supposed to be perfect, and now…everything was ruined. She felt her stomach sink as Electra caught sight of her standing there, and she decided that making a break for one of the tables instead of just standing there would be futile. They had already seen her, and now it was time to accept the hand that fate had dealt her.

As soon as the two had reached her, Natasha began to give her assessment of Bulma's current situation. "Hm, well, this is a familiar sight. You, standing alone without a date."

Electra grinned wolfishly. "Not surprising, I have to say."

The two women had a laugh at her expense, and Bulma Briefs, who had achieved her master's in public relations, could not actually form words in her award-winning mind to respond. Her mouth suddenly went dry, and she did her very best not to tear up at the thought of the loss of her perfect victory. Electra snickered. "Look, Tash. She can't even talk anymore."

"Maybe she switched her brain with some dumb ape during one of her little experiments!" That sent the two women into fits of high-pitched giggling that cut poor Bulma's self-esteem in half.

It was just then that the most unimaginable thing happened. The cackling suddenly stopped as both Natasha's and Electra's gazes were drawn away from Bulma and to the man standing behind her. Bulma didn't understand what had happened until she felt two strong arms slip around her waist from behind her. She turned around immediately to face her gorgeous prince, dressed to kill. He was wearing the navy blue Armani pinstripe shirt she had bought him, which he had vowed never to wear, and she felt herself swoon at how handsome he looked in it.

Still holding her in his arms, the next words he uttered Bulma never could have seen coming in a million years. "I'm so sorry, darling. I was busy putting away our coats when I caught sight of you out here, and I suppose I got lost in your beauty for a while." He finished his apology with an exceptionally long and lustful kiss to her neck, putting on a very convincing show for the two women in front of them.

Bulma could only smile as they both took turns swooning over Vegeta and glaring at her for having snatched such a man against their judgments. Before they could be any more thoroughly embarrassed for not having dates of their own, Natasha sneered toward Bulma, "Well, it was nice seeing you again, Bulma."

"Yeah, a real treat," the second spat like venom. The two finally walked away, leaving Bulma alone, wrapped in her prince's arms.

Bulma could only stare at him adoringly as Vegeta "humph"ed and ignored her gaze, looking over her head as they swayed in time with the music. She smiled and let them stay silent for a while, until finally asking why he had decided to come after all. Vegeta didn't answer for a moment, and finally he responded, "To make a fool out of the mate of the Prince of all Saiyans is a disgrace to the title. And that buffoon was sure to do so."

She smiled again at his sideways sweet talk. "Oh, so you were protecting your 'title' hm?"

He didn't answer, but he held her a little closer. Bulma pressed her head against his shoulder. "So, why is it that you acted so sweetly in front of those two?"

"Because no one is allowed to speak to you in such a manner that those two wenches did," Vegeta answered without hesitation.

She raised an eyebrow.

"No one but me, of course," he finished.

Bulma giggled girlishly and slipped her arms around his neck. She gave him a long and languid kiss to reward him for his efforts (and give him a preview of what the rest of his reward would be) and the two finished off the night with grace and dignity the likes of which no one in the room had ever seen, nor would see again. Then again, no one in the room could say that they had been privileged enough to spend an evening with the royal couple.

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